


Dry Earth In My Lungs

by bbcsherlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach, sort of preslash???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcsherlockian/pseuds/bbcsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes has difficulty sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dry Earth In My Lungs

His shoulder felt strangely alien as he pressed it further into the mattress, creating a hollow cavern which seemed to cheat his sense of comfort. Rolling away from the grim obstacle, his ankles became ensnared in the bedclothes which burned him, their heat suffocating and yet wholly desirable. He was claustrophobic in his own skin. The addictive heat singed and prickled an endless pathway down his spine, and at this he smiled. This at least could be different, distracting from the frustratingly unsolvable puzzle which haunted his mind. 

_stop/forget the words/kettle/stupid/escape/and forget_

Scrambling out of bed in a race with only one participant, his feet skittered across the wooden floor, the harsh temperature contrast making his breathing stutter. Was this what it was to feel completely alive, and yet buried under your own grave? He pressed his cheek into the cold comfort of the glass and felt wave after wave of raindrops break rank as they hit the window. They spelled hidden words as they dribbled their sorry remains beyond his eyesight - _desperate/pathetic/wholly and utterly miserable_ \- and it frustrated him that he would never be able to translate the shaky messages. After mere moments they were lost forever, shockingly unique and impossible to understand. _John._

_dry earth in my lungs/i'm trying/forget/forget_

He sighed and his breath created a thousand constellations, as if to obscure the harsh reality of the world just beyond. Every star hurt. - _it wasn't me it wasn't/i said goodbye but i was lying and it chokes me and i shouldn't have/your hands push the stone onto my chest/i'm not there i'm not there/but it crushes me just the same_ \- The night continued to pulse just outside his walls, creating the illusion of protection when in reality he was trapped, contained. Without the dry plaster and brick and layers and layers of cement he felt he might explode outwards into infinite pieces of light that could never be broken or tamed. The walls were holding him together, but they couldn't last much longer. 

_i can see you shimmering above me and this heavy decomposition/it's a lie it's a lie/put down your lilies and give me your hand_

As his heart pounded underneath his sternum, his fingers shook as he pulled back the latch on the window pane and cool fingers of air brushed invitingly against his own. The walls still remained but now with a suggestion of escape, of freedom. It meant nothing. It meant everything. Opening his mouth against the night, he fancied he could taste London from the other side of the world. 

_i promised i promised/i hope this didn't hurt you/half as much as it hurt me_


End file.
